


Never Drink Alone

by MirthfulMeg



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, snarky vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4508364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirthfulMeg/pseuds/MirthfulMeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s my answer to the question: What would happen if Herrick + Mitchell met up with 1950s Hal + Cutler? Well… it doesn’t end with hugs and nice pint of A-</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Drink Alone

The car wound its way through the darkness, the two gentlemen inside riding in silence. The passenger slumped down in his seat, fighting the beginnings of a hangover; he’d had too much to drink at the fight. He’d made a fool of himself. And now he was being punished; dragged to this official gathering to be paraded before the most important members of the society.

He groaned at the thought of the collective, drawing his hand down his face.

“Not too keen on this, are you, Cutler?” The driver inquired, his tone deceptively mild.

“No! I--” He straightened, instinctively adjusting his tie and rumpled vest. “I didn’t say anything.”

The other man laughed, the sound twisting Cutler’s stomach. “You didn’t have to.” He accelerated through a bend in the mountain road, skirting dangerously close to the edge. “For a lawyer, you’re shockingly inept at duplicity. Still,” he took another turn at full speed, enjoying his passenger’s struggle to remain upright. “That works to our advantage. Such an honest face. So trustworthy.”

Cutler nodded, swallowing an encore presentation of his dinner; bad enough to be here without vomiting all over the upholstery. “Yes, Mr. Yorke.”

“Why so thirsty this evening?” The concern in his mentor’s voiced turned to cruelty. “Not still upset over Rachel, are we?”

Here came his dinner again. The lawyer shook his head. “No.”

“What have I said about mumbli—”

“ _No_.” He repeated, speaking with as much conviction as he had ever displayed in the courtroom. “Not at all.”

Another low chuckle. “Ah, good good.” The older vampire sighed a moment later. “Oh hell, here we are.”

Through the windshield, Cutler spied an enormous Georgian mansion, its columned-entryway bedecked with banners of crimson and gold silk. In the center of what the provincial lawyer could only think to describe as the courtyard, a marble fountain shot streams of water high into the air.

“Like spitting at god,” Hal muttered, following his protégé’s line of sight. “Vulgar, but then again, so is our host. Shall we?”

Cutler did not respond, his unease rendering him mute. He had only been in Mr. Yorke’s employ for a few months, but he had learned quickly that silence was golden. He dutifully followed the older man out of the car and across the foyer. A “history maker,” that’s what he had been told he would become; he remained skeptical that he was anything more than a dupe. Same shit, different master.

Hal strode quickly towards the ballroom, slipping through the throng of guests without calling attention to himself. Most of these people would be dead by midnight anyway; Herrick had a habit of playing with his food. He cast a glance over his shoulder to ensure that Cutler was still at heel; he needed a drink.

A cloud of smoke, acrid and suffocating, struck him full in the face.

“Henry! Good to see you.”

Hal frowned at the overly-familiar form of address, coughing as Herrick sauntered nearer, sucking on an old pipe. He straightened, suppressing a strong desire to ram the pipe into the other man’s winking eye and hurl him out the nearest window. “William,” he flashed a smile that was mostly teeth. “Thank you for the invitation.”

Herrick took his arm, drawing him deeper into the room. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure you’d be attending this year.”

Hal stared straight ahead, bored by the upstart's attempts to rile him. “Oh?”

“Yes, I heard a rumor that you’ve had trouble organizing the dogfights. Not turning as great a profit?”

“Ah, those rumors.” Hal slipped free with a practiced grace. “How do they start, I wonder?”

His host shrugged good-naturedly. “Any word from dear Hettie?”

“Still in South America,” Hal murmured, his attention wandering as he took a glass of claret from a passing server.

Herrick nodded. “Haven’t heard from her in ages.”

“I rather think she was hoping you’d get staked after she turned you, William.” Hal scanned the room, feeling peckish. “You did attempt to prostitute her upon your first meeting.”

Herrick puffed on his pipe, thoughtful. “How was I to know she was one of yours, Henry?” He dropped his voice, leaning in conspiratorially. “Children aren’t the usual recruits, you know.”

Cutler had kept his distance as the two vampires conversed, but when he saw Hal’s fingers clench around his glass, he sidled a littler nearer to hear what was being said; it was rare to see his sire so unguarded.

“… One of your softer moments, was it?” Herrick spoke smoothly. “I understand you sometimes have lapses of judgement.”

“She was useful,” an edge had creeped into Hal’s voice, his temper getting the better of him, “a good lure for leaner times.”

Herrick smiled in triumph, bouncing gleefully on the nerve he had struck. “Of course. Never know when things will be difficult. Sometimes those dry spells can last for decades, and then where would you be?”

“On very thin ice, William. I promise you.”

Cutler’s study of the elder vampires was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a young man swaying at his side.

“Jesus, what a night!” The inebriate exclaimed.

Not human, Cutler quickly assessed, spying the dried blood at the corner of the guest’s mouth.

“What?”

The taller man grinned, raking his fingers through his hair. “Very nice selection, right?” He took a swig from the bottle he had cradled in his arm. “Herrick may be a git, but he knows how to throw a party.”

Cutler smacked his dry lips, the coppery scent of fresh blood tickling his nostrils.“Yeah, not bad.”

The dark haired man threw back his head in a wild laugh, his eyes shining. “Not bad at all.” He passed the bottle to Cutler. “John Mitchell,” he offered by way of introduction.

The lawyer gulped down the thick liquid with a greedy, desperate relish. “Nick Cutler.” He responded, wiping at his mouth. He returned the bottle to its owner.

Mitchell gaped openly at the two older vampires. “So that’s mine,” he said, gesturing towards Herrick, “Is that one yours?”

Cutler looked up from licking the tips of his fingers. “Who? Mr. Yorke?”

The sound of his sire’s name had the usual effect, even on the raucous vampire. He sobered immediately. “Henry Yorke?”

“Are my ears burning?” The aforenamed vampire abandoned his irksome host, strolling over to the lawyer and his new associate. “Who are you?” He asked without ceremony.

“John Mitchell, sir.”

“Huh, civil.” Hal muttered. “Shocking.”

“Yes,” Herrick joined the trio, clapping his hand on Mitchell’s shoulder. “He’s full of surprises.”

“Soldier?”

“From the war to end all wars,” Herrick smirked. “Or at least until they had another one, some twenty-odd years later.”

Hal saw an opportunity to remedy Herrick’s earlier impudence. “Yes,” he sneered, “I imagine your Irish setter does well by you, William.” He directed his voice towards his own subordinate. “Good curs are not to be undervalued, Cutler.”

“What the f--?” Mitchell started forward angrily.

Herrick blocked his way. “Not our guests,” he hissed under his breath. “And especially not _him_.”

“Down, boy.” Hal smiled malevolently, moving away from the pair and signaling his protégé to follow. “Come along, Cutler, I’m famished.”


End file.
